Our first visit together to Meares’ office was certainly impressive. Beautifully
decorated, with ambience plus, the rooms created an air of subdued opulence,
serenity and calm. Original paintings, tastefully framed within gilded swirls,
comfortable antique chairs and a large jade statue of Quan-Yin, all created an atmosphere
of expectation and quiet presence. A tall, slightly stooped figure in a
well-tailored steel-grey silk suit stealthily appeared, inviting us into his office. He
had long grey hair of an even length, swept back from his face with slightly flickedup
ends that sat just below his collar. He was certainly a most unusual looking
man with his wizard-like facial features and bushy eyebrows that overhung small
hooded eyes. His voice quality, also unusual, resonated with hypnotic tones and
measured speech. This was Ainslie Meares.
“Come”, he said as he led us, his hands lightly resting on our shoulders, gently
showing us the way to his office. He directed his conversation to Ian in a succinct,
measured and unhurried manner, briefly sharing his theories on stress and cancer
and outlining his research program.
“You will need to attend a three-hour session every day, five days per week for an
indefinite period due to the severity of your cancer”, Meares said.
“Then I would expect a couple of hours practise at home each day. You can join
in next week with a current group of patients who have all types of stress-related
disorders. There are a few cancer patients in the group”.
I interjected, telling him we lived an hour’s drive from Melbourne and that as
Ian could not drive due to his severe pain issues, I would have to be the chauffeur.
Meares gave me a brief glance. Aloof and haughty he did not respond. He merely
raised his ample eyebrows, and turned his head towards Ian again. The story he
told, was clearly meant for my ears.
“You know, I had a fellow come to see me with advanced lung cancer; six weeks
to live was his prognosis and, can you believe it, he said he didn’t have enough time
to meditate!”

Ian sensed my annoyance at Meares’ indirect response, and broke the pregnant
silence that followed:
“I’m starting to have some pain, can the meditation help it?”
“Yes. You will just need to keep meditating, that’s all you need to do. You should
read and sign the disclaimer form at reception as soon as possible and then you can
come to the sessions.”
Meares ushered us out of his office and Ian soon found himself completing the
necessary documentation to join the group as soon as possible. This would be a
huge commitment and I was annoyed that Meares dismissed me, ignoring the reality
of our predicament. After all, I had to care for Ian for the remaining twenty-one
hours of each week day and night, not to mention the weekends. It seemed all too
simple and vague to me that meditation could be the panacea for so many ills;
however, I supported Ian in his choice. Time would tell.
Now the excitement began in earnest. We had read that the Gerson diet produced
a phenomenon known as the ‘healing crisis’, so we were not surprised when
Ian encountered his first reaction—it hit him with alarming vengeance. I cannot
say if his reaction was a healing, but it certainly was a crisis! Suddenly one evening,
Ian became immobilised with vomiting, joint pains and such severe colic that I
thought he would surely need to be hospitalised.

I called Pat who suggested that I call Maurice the local naturopath, who was familiar with the Gerson regimen and had helped her son with detox symptoms while on the diet. Maurice was very kind and helpful, considering it was late at night when I called to ask for assistance. I described Ian’s symptoms and he advised several warm water enemas to ease the intensity of the colic, which he thought was abnormally severe. However, his idea worked, bringing dramatic relief within a few hours, although joint pains persisted along with some night sweats.

In hindsight, I have to wonder if this reaction was a heightened response due to the recent BCG vaccine? This rather scary event caused me, as the carer, to be even more aware of the risk and responsibility that I had accepted, especially given our geographical isolation. The incident that evening was so intense that, hypothetically, I wondered what might happen if Ian were to die while on the dietary program. Prior to my phone call to Maurice, I had been a whisker away from calling an ambulance. Death or cure, blame or praise, if something went horribly wrong, I realised that I was in a most precarious position, open to blame from his family.
The healing mayhem gathered momentum when we began to combine the long
sessions with Meares with the pedantic stringency of the diet. There were simply
not enough hours in the day. Ian’s quest to find peace of mind, de-stress, and heal,
saw us stressed out, trying too hard to de-stress.

He had returned to the same old
pattern of frenetic rushing from place to place, always late and behind schedule but now it applied to our juices, supplements and enemas. This had a backlash affect for me. While Ian learned to deflect his stress and stay cool and calm, I had to run faster and faster to accommodate his every need. Like a shock absorber in a car, I was running at high speed, absorbing his disowned stress and I was powerless to do anything about it. With the long hours of meditation, three hours with Meares’ group, and then two hours at home—I was really feeling the pressure. No
matter how much I tried to support Ian, prolonged hours of meditation practise in combination with his already silent nature, proved to be a nightmare for me. I just
hoped that he would have a breakthrough; pain reduction would be the barometer for success. If he achieved that, I would be delighted.

but now it applied to our juices, supplements and enemas. This had a backlash affect for me. While Ian learned to deflect his stress and stay cool and calm, I had to run faster and faster to accommodate his every need. Like a shock absorber in a car, I was running at high speed, absorbing his disowned stress and I was powerless to do anything about it. With the long hours of meditation, three hours with Meares’ group, and then two hours at home—I was really feeling the pressure. No
matter how much I tried to support Ian, prolonged hours of meditation practise in combination with his already silent nature, proved to be a nightmare for me. I just
hoped that he would have a breakthrough; pain reduction would be the barometer for success. If he achieved that, I would be delighted.